


Inevitable

by IntoTheGallifray



Category: Let's Play (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Oneshot, Ruminate, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28688214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntoTheGallifray/pseuds/IntoTheGallifray
Summary: Beta'd by my amazing twin/soul sister/Eaaaagle who spoils me rotten, San-chan <3 <3
Relationships: Charles Jones/Sam Young (Let's Play)
Kudos: 31





	Inevitable

Charles felt like he'd only just blinked, and suddenly the Princess lay resurrected before him. He'd been expecting it, but still felt unprepared for the beautiful, _naked_ , woman now looking up at him. He felt as if the wind had been knocked out of his lungs by the striking resemblance she bore to a certain brunette; to whom he feared he would never be able to confess his feelings. 

"I, _ahem,_ " he cleared his throat as he whipped off his cloak and crouched to quickly wrap her up in it, hoping his blond locks hid his flushing cheeks, "Here you are."

"Here I am," she breathed, a small smile playing about her lips, "You have rescued me, fair Knight."

"It...it was of no consequence," he could feel the heat rising further in his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck abashedly.

"You speak so little of yourself, my Knight," the Princess stood up in front of him, only barely clutching the fabric of his cloak around her, "It is of _every_ consequence."

Charles reached out and drew the material around her a bit more firmly, hiding her exposed skin from his involuntarily hungry eyes, "Please," his voice was huskier than he'd intended, "Call me Charles."

"As you wish, Sir Charles," she curtsied, "I am Princess Samara."

"No, it's just Charles," he corrected, heart skipping on hearing her name spoken aloud, as if affirming what he was already trying to deny.

"Charles," she whispered, leaning toward him as if for a kiss.

He lightly gripped her shoulders, halting her movement, "I think we should get you back to the castle, Princess Samara."

"Must we so soon?" she asked, laying her palm on his chest.

"I think it would be wise," he nodded, self-restraint slipping ever so slightly.

Samara pouted then attempted to step away, as if in rebellion, but her legs were still quite weak and she stumbled, a pair of strong arms preventing her from hitting the ground.

"It would seem you are destined to save me, s-...Charles," she fluttered her eyelashes up at him.

"Well, you _were_ dead only moments ago," he stated, helping her back to standing, "I suppose walking is out of the question."

Before she could respond, he swept her up into his arms and started carrying her along the path toward the castle in the distance. When she realized where they were headed, she started struggling, pushing against his chest as she yelled, "Unhand me this instant!"

"I'm taking you back to where you belong, Princess," he grunted as he strained to keep her aloft.

"Stop! I will not go!" she shouted, kicking her legs.

"Don't you want to see your family again?" he asked, trying vainly to compensate for her violent wriggling.

In her frenzied movements, she accidentally delivered a mild blow to Charles' throat, temporarily impairing his ability to breathe. He released her and they both fell to the ground, Samara panting as she tried to push herself back to standing, and Charles wheezing as he worked to inhale.

"I'm starting to regret resurrecting you," he croaked, hand massaging his throat.

Samara ignored him, having finally managed to stand up, even able to take a few wobbly steps into the tree line that had been just ahead of them.

" _Cachu_ ," Charles swore under his breath, jumping to his feet and catching up to her.

Samara could hear him and attempted to run, though hadn't gotten too far before the very pair of arms that had saved her, now held her back. Charles pulled her to him, but had not anticipated her launching herself at him, and both went tumbling once again to the ground. They rolled further into the brush until Charles swiftly brought them to a stop, landing atop of Samara, his knee between her legs while he held her wrists pinned to the grass.

"Why are you _so_ determined not to go back?" he demanded angrily, trying adamantly to ignore that she was once again naked, his cloak laying just beside them.

"Because I tire of this," she sighed, bringing her eyes to meet his.

"Tire of _me_?" he asked, feeling slightly hurt even though he know it was foolish.

"Not you," she said, gaze softening, "Of _this_ ," she gestured around them.

"I'm afraid I still don't understand, Princess," he found calling her just 'Princess' made it easier on himself, easier to say no, to think objectively.

"Do you truly believe this is the _first_ time I have been brought back to life?" her voice was thick, the question catching him off guard.

"I...I suppose I hadn't thought about it," he replied honestly.

"It is as if I were stuck in an endless loop: Rising, returning to the castle, marrying, then suddenly I've died again."

"I'm sorry, I-" 

"Not once is it truly my idea to marry, and yet there I am; a wife. And then I die, in a multitude of ways; poisoning, falling from the balcony, arrow, dragon fire, murder. Only to start at the same beginning once again, never to see what lies beyond, what choices I might make for myself. Do you know what that's like?" she searched his face, seeking the answer.

"Metaphorically? Or..." he replied.

"Of course you don't," she said bitterly, "You're just like the others. Fine. Take me back then, at least it will be over soon enough."

"No," he declared firmly, taking her by surprise.

"N-no?" she asked, a hopeful note in her voice.

"I'll refuse marriage," his gaze spoke truly of his intent, "I have my own reasons for it as well, but I'll refuse, and your life will be your own again."

"You would do such a thing, for me?" he could see the tears she held at bay, swallowing hard at the memory of how _his_ Samara had once given him an identical look.

"Yes," he said simply, wishing in that very moment he had just as little trouble uttering the same word to someone else.

He released his grip on her and moved to get up, but was pulled right back against her when she wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles behind him.

"Then allow me to express my gratitude," she murmured, eyes darkened.

"That wouldn't be-"

"We will not marry, which stands to reason I will likely never see you again," she interjected, pulling him closer to her, able to feel how she was affecting him through the thin fabric of his pants, "So why not love me now, while we have this moment? Something to cling to when I inevitably return to the beginning once more. Please? Please, I know you wish it," she rolled her hips against him, "I can _feel_ it."

He stared at her, mind whirring as he took in the sight of her flushed cheeks, the way she felt beneath him, the scent of her arousal, and the sound of her practically begging him to take her. He thought he ought to say 'no', but then...why should he? She was willing, he was willing; he knew he could never truly be with the real Samara, so why not let himself have this one moment, just as the Princess would have hers. Maybe then, this would give him the strength to accept the Ellesmere job offer, to finally leave and let Real Life Sam live the life she truly deserved; one free of the shadows of his self-loathing. He slowly lowered his head until his lips rested mere centimeters from Princess Samara's.

"Are you sure you want this?" he asked, eyes locked onto hers.

Instead of words, she closed the distance between them, a searing kiss that seemed to reach deep down and linger. Charles returned her voracity, grinding against her as he ran one hand along her side, the other propping himself up. Her hands scrabbled at his sash, intent on pulling his tunic free of it, but he halted her with a look. He brought his gloved hand to his mouth and gently bit one of the fingertips with his teeth, slowly sliding it off of his hand. Her eyes were glued to him throughout the action, even as he tossed the glove aside. He stooped to kiss her neck, newly exposed fingers sliding down the skin between her breasts, skirting around her navel, gliding over her mons to drag along her slick folds. He felt more than heard the groan that she uttered when the pad of his finger found her clit and massaged gently. Her hands clutched his hair as he licked a line down to her nipple, teasing the taut peak with his tongue before blowing a cool breath across it, smirking at the resultant goosebumps.

"Your touch..." she gasped, "Is fire."

"I could burn you," he murmured darkly, shifting to insert two fingers into her while his thumb took up residence over her small hub of nerves.

"I'd rather you _consume me_ ," she moaned, clutching at his sleeves. 

"As you wish," he smirked, unhooking her ankles and sliding down her body until his lips made their acquaintance with her clit.

"Oh Gods," she uttered, "I've died again and this is Heaven."

"I assure you, Princess," he said between alternate licks and sucks of the rosy pearl at the apex of her thighs, "I am no angel."

"I will gladly be damned if _this_ is Hell," she responded, throwing her head back.

His fingers once again slid home inside of her, curving inward in time to the pattern of his tongue against her flesh. She was writhing beneath him, enough so that he had to pin her down, his still-gloved expansive palm spread across her pelvis. Yet even so, she bucked against him, erratic, needy, _close_. 

"I've never known ecstasy such as this," she cried as he felt her inner muscles begin to tighten around his digits.

"And I'll have you know it more than once," he growled, barely needing to double his efforts before he felt and heard her climax, her less than ladylike declarations ringing through the glade.

He'd only just caught his breath, when she was reaching down to grip the fabric of his tunic, pulling him up along her body into a hard kiss. She practically ripped the material up over his head, then reached down into his trousers, hand closing around his throbbing length. He inhaled sharply as she stroked him several times, smiling devilishly as he trembled in her grasp.

"It would seem I have you in the palm of my hand," she teased, swirling her thumb over his tip.

"And you may do whatever you want with me," he groaned, thrusting into her grip.

"In that case," she pushed against him so that he rolled over onto his discarded cloak, then crouched between his thighs, "Much better."

She slowly removed his boots, followed by his remaining garments, crawling up to place a kiss on the side of his shaft followed by a firm lick.

"You seem far more... _experienced_ than I expected," he commented, breath hitching as she licked him again.

"How dare you," she spoke in mock offense, voice low, "I am a _lady._ "

Before he could reply, she took him fully in her mouth, swallowing him to the back of her throat and working him with her tongue before releasing him. She repeated the motion, drawing a loud groan from him.

"My _fair_ lady."

She slowly built up her speed until she could feel he was nearing his peak, then stopped suddenly, smirking at his stifled sob. She shifted upward so that she was straddling him, thighs straining as she held herself poised above his erect member, waiting.

"Please," he begged, too close to the brink for dignity.

She gripped his base and slid down onto him, sinking until he was fully sheathed, both emitting loud sighs of relief. She swivelled her hips as she reached for his gloved hand, bringing it to her mouth and biting one of the fingertips, just as he'd done. She slowly removed it and placed his now bare palm on her breast, humming with pleasure when he immediately worked her nipple with his fingers. She raised herself up then and lowered, feeling him hit deep inside of her, while he could barely contain himself at the sensation of her velvety walls surrounding him. She planted her palms on his chest and starting riding him in earnest, his hand sliding from her breast to cup her face, while the other gripped her hip. He could read it in her changed rhythm, her shallowed breaths, that she was once again drawing near to her finish. He, himself, wasn't yet ready to let go, but was more than willing to fulfill his promise of earlier. He released her hip and licked his thumb, bringing it to rub circles over her clit. She took him deeper, then faster, and then her face contorted in pleasure as he watched her crest her peak, coming down to shudder against him, only _just_ able to keep himself in check. 

"But, you-" she started to say amidst catching her breath.

"I'm not finished with you yet," he growled, flipping them so she was pinned once again between him and the ground.

He thrust sharply into her and she let out a cry, her still sensitive flesh overwhelmed by the sensation. He sat up slightly and raised one of her legs so that it lay flush along his chest, hooking over his shoulder before plunging back into her.

"Oh, _Charles_ ," she moaned, hands fisting into the grass on either side of her.

He knew he wouldn't be able to hold back much longer so he picked up his rhythm, adding a twist to his hips and slowly leaning forward so as to get deeper, more than pleasantly surprised by her flexibility. 

"Harder," she whimpered, then more commandingly, "Love me _harder."_

"I don't think I possibly could," he spoke under his breath, more to himself than to her, as he complied with her request.

Several more thrusts combined with a few strokes over her engorged bud and she was once again screaming his name to the canopy, with him immediately finding his release inside of her. They lay there a moment, each catching their breath, until she shifted her leg and sat up to press one last kiss to his lips.

"I am ready now," she said softly.

He simply nodded and helped her wrap herself back up in his cloak, dressing himself before moving to aid her in walking. She looked up at him sheepishly and said, "It would seem you have stolen my ability to walk."

"I rather think you gave it to me," he smirked, lifting her into his arms and walking them toward the castle.

"Perhaps it was always yours," she answered, leaning her head tiredly against his chest.

They returned to the castle, where Charles was knighted and offered Princess Samara's hand in marriage. He made sure to lock eyes with the Princess as he gave his refusal, the two sharing a secret smile hidden to all but each other. After a feast in his honour, he bid his goodbyes to everyone, saving the Princess for last. He bowed low and kissed her hand, hearing a whispered, "Thank you, Charles."

"It is I who must thank _you_ ," he smiled as he straightened back to standing, "I wish you well."

"And I, you," she dipped her head slightly.

Charles rode off into the night, his thoughts firmly on how he would make the call to Ellesmere the next morning, and accept their job offer. Lost in his determined musings, he didn't look back once; but if he did, he would have seen a hauntingly familiar ghost following in his wake once again.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: The runner-up title for this fic was "RumiMate" 0w0


End file.
